Hey there! I don't believe we've met, at least not in this category. Just a quick heads up beforehand:
Disclaimer #1: I own everything. You read that right. Absolutely everything. That pretty yellow car is in my garage, not yours. Go ahead. Be jealous.
Disclaimer # 2: Okay. So my car's actually red. But I swear it's the same car, just hiding. Really. Believe me.
Disclaimer #3: as I said. It's all mine. That pretty boy's locked in my closet. Shhh…
All that being said… we can now move on, so, let's!
Read on and enjoy the story!
The hospital lights faded from sight a block away, leaving Sam in the darkness of the street, alone. Every now and then, the sidewalk would be washed with headlights, and then cast into darkness again. He'd already been passed by a friend and asked if he wanted a ride, but Sam had declined. No, he had a ride coming along soon. He didn't mention that he planned to either lecture it to death or ignore it completely. For now, the sound of leaves skittering across the cement was the only offering to fill the silence. The scuffing of his feet against the ground was barely audible, but no doubt his certain someone would be able to pick up on it, no matter how far away he was. From inside a house, Sam heard a girl's scream, making him tense up until it ended in a little girl's high-pitched giggle of delight. The sound continued to reverberate in his mind, leaving him even more shaken. If Mikaela wasn't okay, he'd… he didn't know what he'd do, but seeing as she wasn't that bad off, he didn't think he'd have to do anything, anyways. She was currently back at home after spending more than four hours at the hospital, but even though she was now okay, it all infuriated him to no end. He'd ignored the first, what, year? So many things could have been somewhat accidental, however, or blamed on coincidence. But now, lines were being crossed in leaps and bounds, and the accused was going to have to put up and shut up, in terms of offering an explanation and cutting it the hell out.
The quiet rev of an engine soon invaded on the silence, humming along behind him, just out of his sight. Sam clenched his jaw and refused to look.
"I do not understand why you have such a fucking problem with her!" he snapped out, shoving his hands in his pockets and stalking along. Bumblebee continued to pursue him, engine revving slightly. "And don't even give me that 'our last day together' stuff, cuz you're only going for a month, and you've been doing this for practically a year!" He quickened his step, even though it was obviously pointless to try and lose a car. He kept on for another couple blocks, saying nothing, and arrived at the foot of his driveway, maintaining his silence until Bumblebee whined again, engine moaning pitifully. He recognized the sound. "No, Bee, I'm not okay. If you don't quit it, who knows how long she'll stick around?!" A grumbling little sound, "Oh, that had better not be your intent!" He finally spun around to face the yellow car, wishing he had somewhere specific to glare at. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, jaw tight. "I don't know what's gotten into you- if it's anger, boredom, frustration, jealous, whatever, but my God, Bee, she's lucky it's only her ankle that's broken!" Bumblebee inched forward to nose Sam with his bumper. "Maybe it'll be easier without you, before Mikaela breaks her neck!" Headlights blinked on and off and Bumblebee receded a few feet. The front door of the house opened.
"Son, fighting with your car is not a normal thing to do" His father's voice carried over from the porch. Sam sent one last withering glare at Bumblebee, then stalked across the yard, staying on the path so he wouldn't get his head bitten off again.
"Yeah, well, none of this is." Sam walked into the house, stepping around boxes. "Isn't it a little early to be packing?"
"It's just one month until you have to leave, Sam. And I want to start repainting." His father, blunt as usual, settled back onto the couch beside Sam's mother, unpausing their movie. "Why are you back so late?"
"Hospital." Sam heard a loud rev from the driveway that sounded like a whine, and he spun to face the open living room window. "Quit it, Bee!"
"The hospital?" His mother's eyes widened instantaneously, and Sam held back a sigh.
"Yeah, mom. For Mikaela. She… fell. Broke her ankle. She's fine now, though." He started out of the room, through the maze of empty boxes that were way too numerous, "I'm going to go call her now."
"Tell her we hope she feels better soon!" his mother called after him. He just nodded and continued up the stairs, ignoring the flashes of headlights that appeared on the walls through the window. He heard Bumblebee spinning his wheels on the grass outside in frustration.
Mikaela picked up on the third ring, and her exhaustion was so clear that Sam cringed. "Feeling any better?" He sat on the side of his bed, picking at a loose thread in the bedspread. Guilt had washed over him initially, and it was starting to drown him now, dunking his head under and holding it, at the sound of stress in her voice.
"Yeah. Lots." Such a lie. "Don't worry about me, Sam."
"Oh, okay" He flopped back on the bed. "I won't worry. My car is only out to kill my girlfriend, that's all!"
"It could have been an accident, Sam." Her placating tone was strained, neither could take any comfort in it. "Honestly. I mean, maybe the door locks are broken, and the seats not anchored down properly, and-"
"And you just happened to get thrown out? He's doing it on purpose. And I'm really, really sorry." He didn't miss the quick flash of yellow just outside his window, and he groaned. Bumblebee was doing a poor job of eavesdropping, as per usual. "He's going to help the Autobots with their city thing tomorrow, so we'll get some peace then." He knew he was being a little too biting, but really, Bee was just so out of hand.
"Gonna miss him?" Mikaela asked curiously. Sam scowled, as her scream echoed through his thoughts again.
"I'll miss having a car for sure. Walking everywhere sucks." There was an absence of sound, and he realized that he was more accustomed to hearing the soft, almost inaudible whir of mechanics that meant an Autobot was present, than the absence of it. He only noticed when it left, and he knew that Bee had just taken off, presumably to sulk in the garage.
"It's weird. He's usually so sweet." To Sam, anyways, she didn't add. Bumblebee had a devotion to him so strong, it was absolutely disturbing to see him out to get Sam's girlfriend with such a vengeance.
"I'll get it sorted out. I promise."
"You going to tell the others about it? I mean, what if it's a…" she fumbled for a word, and Sam filled it in.
"Wiring thing? No, this is all Bee. The only one I need to talk to is him… later."
After he'd bid her goodnight, Sam lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling for a long time, the screams still rebounding in his mind. They'd been driving back from the movies, along Mikaela's favorite road, the one that ran by the lake. He couldn't remember exactly what she'd been saying- something about how glad she was they were dating, he knew that- and then Bee had overridden Sam's controls of the car, jerking to the side, as the door sprang open and Mikaela's seatbelt came loose; the seat had jolted her out, somehow, and she'd flown out, screaming. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the sight of her paled face, the swelling around her ankle, the way she tried to keep from showing how much pain she was in and truly, utterly failed.
When the soft hum of mechanics returned, Sam closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, until he succumbed to his exhaustion, and was able to stop pretending.
Even the hospital had more lenient visiting hours than Mikaela's stepmom allowed, Sam thought grudgingly after he hung up the phone. Sure, it made sense that Amy wanted Mikaela to be resting, and not get strained, but, really, a time slot? He was going to have to book it to get over there, too, because she lived four blocks away, and he was giving his car the silent treatment. It didn't seem to be doing much good, though, as Bumblebee was in the driveway, revving his engine loudly. A glance at the microwave clock told Sam that Bee should have left forty minutes ago, but he'd spent the time lingering in the driveway instead, trying to call Sam's attention to himself. Sam hadn't planned on saying goodbye; apparently, Bee wasn't happy with that plan.
"Okay" he yelled out the window above the sink, "I'll be right out. Just quit that before you wake up my mom!" He rolled his eyes at the mention; nearly twenty and still living at home wasn't something he loved, but in a month, he'd be in the Autobot Watch Lockdown Program- Ratchet called it Autobot Protection, but Sam wasn't buying that, not for one minute- but until then, he had to contend with the fact that his mom was cranky if she woke up before nine on a Sunday. He grabbed his phone and ignored his car keys, then walked outside. His phone rang and he put it to his ear.
"Hello?" He listened to the voice on the other end. "Yes, Mrs. Banes, I'll be on time for the eight-forty-five. Of course." He hung up a few moments later, holding back a sigh. Maybe he was already under some sort of lockdown, and just didn't know it. Bee revved again to regain his attention. "Okay. What is it?" The door swung open, stopping just short of hitting his knees.
"No, I don't want a ride. I'm going to visit Mikaela, I don't want you committing homicide because you just can't help yourself." Another rev, softer this time. He'd never known how many ways a car could use an engine sound to communicate feelings. "You're already practically an hour late." There was a static noise.
"Miss you." The low, broken-up voice came from somewhere in the hood, the sound like he was ripping apart cables. Sam swung the door shut, frowning.
"You're not supposed to talk! Do you want Ratchet frying you with a laser?" He heaved a sigh. "I'll miss you, Bee. You know I will." Even as he said it, he had to fight back that rise of emotion he had a hard time restraining. He had yet to examine it, but seeing as it had been around for as long as Mikaela had, anger was his best bet, and he didn't want to admit to harboring such a rage with his best friend.
The yellow Camaro sped out of sight, and Sam felt the rush of intensity fade away.
Half the reason the repairs to Bumblebee's voice mod were taking so long was due to the lack of dire necessity they used to have. Ratchet didn't seem in any big hurry, seeing as the wifi let Bee speak his mind directly into those of his companions. But enough was enough; Bumblebee spent more time with Sam than anyone else, and, as Bee had put it, as much fun as charades were, there was a reason language had been created.
"I'll be able to do it later." Ratchet assured, after instructing Bumblebee to sit and not move so the cables could be checked. The warehouse they were using as a makeshift home base wasn't set up for a medical centre, as Ratchet often griped, and the complaints were justified- there was nowhere to keep all his tools except on the floor, and the ceiling was too low for anyone's comfort. "The tools at the city will be much better than what I have here." Bee fidgeted and mentally rehearsed his request again. Ratchet looked at him questioningly. "What?"
[Do you really need me here a lot this month?] he finally projected up at Ratchet. Ratchet frowned.
"I suppose not terribly. Why?"
[Thought I'd go back and visit Sam…] he tried to shrug it off, but Ratchet was frowning at him.
"Is that such a good idea? Last I heard, you were being- what was it? Oh- a dangerous nuisance." At the wince from Bee this elicited, Ratchet rolled his eyes, a human trait he'd decided to add to his inventory. "So it is true. I thought she was exaggerating."
[Mikaela told you.] It wasn't a question so much as an exasperated statement. Ratchet nodded, turning to hunt through the tools assembled in the warehouse they were staying in until the city was finished.
"She was worried there was something wrong, but I assured her that, no, nothing was physically wrong." His implication was strong.
[There's nothing wrong, not emotionally or otherwise.] Speaking in silence had a way of robbing him of expression; Bee wanted to be growling, and all he had was hard silence.
"Whatever you say." He selected a small laser he used for his diagnostics work. "Shall I warn Sam that the main danger to his girlfriend's life is returning to him?"
[Actually…] Bee looked up to expose his throat in response to Ratchet's gesturing, [Don't tell him.] This earned himself a questioning look, and with an inward sigh, he explained, with the utmost reluctance, what he wanted to do.
When he finished, Ratchet stayed silent for a few moments. "Such a bad idea." Ratchet was shaking his head, and Bumblebee could only hope that the disdain wouldn't cause a laser to slip and slice off anything important. "And when he finds out?"
"He won't!" Bumblebee managed to choke out, around the lasers Ratchet was using to repair the cables, and the whine of metal from the voice mod.
"I swear to you, Bumblebee, talk more and I'll confiscate the remaining cables. Understand?" Bee could only nod meekly. "Well, if it's what you want, I'll stay out. And so will everyone else." He snapped the laser away, pausing to give Bumblebee a stern look, optics fixing on his face. "I hope you know what you're trying to get yourself into."
Bumblebee just shrugged.
[There's the off chance that I'll require your assistance.]
"Oh, joy" Ratchet fixed Bee with a withering look. "I should have known."
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